Where To Go In London When You’ve Put Yourself In The Doghouse

For those times when you get yourself in so much trouble that only just the right meal will set things straight.

Some of us spend lots of time in it. Some of us spend next to no time in it. What is certain though, is that we’ve all been in the doghouse. It might be with your mum, it might be with your husband, it might be with your dog. It doesn’t matter who it’s with, because it’s always your fault. What’s also certain though is the best way to win someone back is with food and booze. So next time you’ve messed up, accepted it (sort of), and need to get back in the good books, follow our restaurant guide below.

The spots

7:32pm: “I’m just gonna have a quick drink with work people because Flora/Tim/the guy from Tesco on the corner is leaving, so I’ll give you a call in a bit and we’ll get dinner”. 10:52pm: “Sorrrrry my pjhone died, am gona head back way now whjat do u fancy to eat?? Xzz”.
2:27am: “WHy aren’t youu picking ipppp????”.
1:01pm: “Sorry about last night. Got a bit out of hand. Very annoying I know. I’ve booked The Palomar for dinner tonight. It’s meant to be very nice. Sharing plates thing. Give me a call when you can, x”.

So you’re out for dinner with your prospective family for the first time. It’s going great. The wine is a-flowing and you know what, you’re really getting on with your brother/sister-in-law. Getting on a little too well for somebody’s liking. You never laugh like that usually. Stop. Don’t say anything about the family genes. Write off tonight and book Brawn for lunch tomorrow. A walk down Columbia Road, some choice bits of nature, and a few oysters should mean everybody’s smiling by the early afternoon.

So you said you loved spicy food to the in-laws when you know you’re not so good with it. Big deal. You tried a bit of everything because you wanted to show that you’re easygoing, open-minded. Interesting tactic. You were uncontrollably sweating, unable to speak for 80% of the evening and your mother-in-law wanted to call the emergency services. Smooth.
Honesty isn’t always the best policy with extended family (see politics and Christmas rituals) but with chilli it is. You need to take them all somewhere classic and inoffensive to make up for it, an all-rounder. Basically everything you’re not. Bocca Di Lupo should do the trick, and there isn’t a chilli in sight.

You’re in the pub, meeting your sister’s dog for the first time. The surrogate child. It is adored. You wonder how your future niece or nephew will take to being second best, especially to something that rolls about it in its own filth. You suspect babies also do this. You suspect you did this. “WHERE’S THE DOG?!”. You were meant to be watching it. You were thinking about poo. “YOU IDIOT!!!”. You look around but the fourth pint has entered your blood stream. “It’s probably just outside” you say. Your sister sprints outside. You drop the menu on the floor. The dog is in the corner, under the table. It’s chewing its own foot. You gain some composure. You’re on Exmouth Market. The Eagle is two minutes away. It has THAT steak sandwich. You make the call.

It’s the morning of your nephew’s first birthday party. You knew he was coming. The dog was a classic tell. Classic. You wake up and turn on your phone. Lots of texts. Lots and lots of texts. Bad texts. Mum. Dad. Mum and Dad group. Sister. Sister, Mum and Dad group. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no. It was lunch! It was Sunday lunch? It was Sunday brunch. Who in their right mind has a party for an illiterate blob at 10am on a Sunday? Right. It’s 1pm. Where is child friendly, reliable but also impressive enough to claw you out of this mess? You need something magical and, possibly, some divine intervention. You order one of those massive rainbow cakes. Magical. You book dinner at St John Bar and Restaurant for a few hours time. Divine.

They said they wanted a hairdryer for their birthday, so you got them a hairdryer for their birthday. You moron. Don’t worry, all is not lost. You just need to think on your feet. Book a table at Salon and suddenly your underwhelming gift becomes part of a bigger, smarter theme. Not only can you ride out your awful, awful gift, you can take them for an inventive and interesting dinner in Brixton. Clever you! Now to pretend you’ve booked tickets for the Edinburgh Fringe…

The country getaway. Ooh a cottage in Wales! So remote! So quaint! Shall we drive? Of course! Two wrong turns and a pathetic attempt to blame a talking screen later, your weekend getaway is ruined. RIP your relationship. Or is it? You’re gonna need a sweetener to come home to following round two on Sunday afternoon. Good thing you’re heading towards Rochelle Canteen and Bar at the ICA. Where better to dispel any anger than in an art gallery? You’re literally not allowed to shout. Besides, you won’t want to shout once you’ve got a pie and a glass of pinot noir in front of you. Abandon the car for a few hours and settle down for a long, lazy and lush lunch (or dinner).

There’s nothing like a fresh walk on Hampstead Heath on a brisk winter’s day is there? The cold air stinging your eyes, your arms linking, a single rain drop that you laugh off as ‘dew in the air’. Ha ha ha, how lovely. And then, suddenly, before you’ve finished your nervous laughter, it’s pissing down with reckless abandon and your beloved other is taking cover under a large oak tree. The rain is cool, refreshing and smooth versus the hot, piercing stare radiating from under said tree. They wanted Netflix, you wanted a walk. You are fu*ked. Don’t worry. Make a dash to The Bull and Last - a proper pub that serves superb food and is on the edge of the Heath. Things might turn out alright, especially if you get a table next to the fire and order a lot of triple cooked chips.

University reunions are never really a good idea. But did you think it would be this bad an idea? Probably not. Was it worth it? Of course it was worth it. But you cannot let that be known. You are in mourning. Mourning for yourself. Mourning for your better half. You will not smile for at least 15 hours. Or until they smile. Good thing you’re taking them to Bob Bob Ricard. Face it, you’re not gonna get back in the good books without a ‘press for champagne’ button, so this is the place to come to when you need to get a smile, and fast.